


stolen kisses

by redheadedwalker



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bathing, Dancing, First Kiss, Fluff, Gratuitous amounts of fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Secret Kisses, and flower crowns, and lots of kissing, but seriously guys, that's basically it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 03:44:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1372711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redheadedwalker/pseuds/redheadedwalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It took Thorin one look to see that there was more about Bilbo Baggins than he knew. It took one kiss to make him fall, another one to feel, a third to realize. The fourth one to resolve, another one of pure bliss, the sixth filled with need. And a seventh one to finally find the right words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stolen kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Or: The one with the most gratuitous amount of fluffy Thorin and Bilbo kisses ever.
> 
> ~ This one is for Erik, whom I love and admire with all my heart. *smiles* ~

{///~~~\\\\\\}

It had started that mild night in spring, when Thorin had knocked at the one green door in the middle of the Shire, surrounded by soft hills and the soothing light of the stars shining bright above him in the clear night sky. Thorin had already heard his merry Company from afar and it had been hard to suppress an exasperated eye roll, for them filling the whole neighbourhood with sound.

He had long before suspected that their host would be more of a stopover than an actual aspirant for the place of the burglar amongst his Company - if he was anything like the hobbits he had met on his way – so Thorin was already prepared for a snarky comment leaving his lips, when he arrived at the homely looking hobbit hole, but when the door had opened, the king’s whole world had stopped for a second.

Illuminated by the invitingly warm light of his home, a small hobbit stood in front of Thorin, his mouth hanging slightly open, as if had wanted to say something, but remaining as speechless as the dwarf himself.

Thorin couldn’t deny he was downright staring at their prospective burglar, but something inside him stirred; like a faint flamelet lighting up his chest. Thorin was already drowning in the warm hazel of their host’s eyes, before he realized the unnatural silence around them and snapped out of his reverie; confused and afraid from his body’s strange reaction. He had even barely noticed Gandalf standing beside the hobbit, introducing both to one another.

 _Bilbo Baggins_.

A name that would be carved deep into Thorin’s heart, until he would take his last breath in this world and even beyond that.

After their brief introduction, Thorin didn’t dare to approach their host again until after even the last dwarf had found a place to lay down for a short night’s rest. It wasn’t that Thorin had been overly reluctant to speak with Bilbo, but after the fainting incident – actually he himself had carried the unconscious hobbit back to his armchair, whilst the others just had shot him amused glances – he thought it would probably be the best to give Bilbo some time to calm down and think about the offer, instead of facing their expectant leader as soon as possible. Thorin had overheard the hobbit’s conversation with Gandalf earlier as well and his heart had clenched painfully, leaving him more confused than he had already been several hours ago at the front porch.

Thorin unobtrusively asked the Wizard where the hobbit’s sleeping chambers were to be found and earned an exhaustingly amused chuckle from Gandalf, but also a very detailed direction. Something in the back of his mind told him that the Wizard was secretly having fun alluding to Thorin’s former statement about losing his way to the hobbit’s residence. Twice.

When he finally stood in front of Bilbo’s bedroom, Thorin took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and his treacherously pounding heart down, but eventually he raised his hand to knock hesitantly.

No reaction.

The king tried again, a bit firmer this time.

Still no reaction. Maybe he was already asleep?

After the discussion with Gandalf the hobbit had retreated to his rooms and hadn’t shown up ever since. But Thorin’s body seemed reluctant to leave - somehow he had secretly hoped to have a talk with Bilbo, maybe convincing him to join; maybe just to thank him for his hospitability and say goodbye. He didn’t know.

Eventually the king quietly opened the door and peeked through the small gap.

“Master Baggins?”

Thorin listened attentively, but the only sounds emerging from the room were the wind silently rattling at the windows and the soft and even breaths of their host, lying sound asleep on his bed. There was still a dim fire quietly cackling at the small fireplace; illuminating the hobbit’s calm face, framed by a mess of honey coloured curls. Bilbo was curled on top of his sheets, one hand tightly clutching the end of his pillow, the other one resting beside his slightly opened lips.

Thorin smiled fondly at the sight and decided to quietly step in. He gently shut the door behind him, before silently closing the distance between himself and the hobbit’s bed, carefully sitting down on the edge in order not to wake its current inhabitant. He stirred slightly though, when Thorin hesitantly extended his hand to run his fingers through Bilbo’s curls.

He didn’t know what on Middle-Earth possessed him to overstep the hobbit’s hospitability so far, but somehow it felt right to caress Bilbo’s soft hair, silently watching his content, sleepy face. Maybe he was dreaming of his home or maybe he was far away, somewhere Thorin couldn’t follow. He didn’t know.

Eventually he withdrew his hand and carefully lifted the smaller one up in order to arrange his sheets and tucked the hobbit beneath them. Thorin was already turning around, when Bilbo murmured something that sounded suspiciously like his name. The dwarf couldn’t suppress the amused smile forming on his lips, when he turned back to the hobbit’s bedside and slowly leaned down to smooth back Bilbo’s curls, before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Sweet dreams, Bilbo Baggins.”

{///~~~\\\\\\}

Thorin was sitting on the ledge of the rock where they had decided to camp for the night, trying to soothe his nerves by slowly inhaling the smoke of his pipe and blowing it forlornly into the deep night sky. His nephews had tried to tease their burglar – Thorin was still surprised, but somehow more than relieved that Bilbo decided to join them; even if literally last minute – but it had been a very misplaced joke and Thorin had snapped. And after Balin had started retelling the story of the Battle of Azanulbizar for Bilbo, the memories had come back full force, taking advantage of Thorin’s already strained nerves. After the older dwarf had ended though, Thorin had retreated quickly, needing a short moment of privacy to regain his senses.

At first he didn’t notice Bilbo’s quiet approach, far too captured in his own dark thoughts. But when a small smoke ring joined his sustained puffs, he snapped out of his absentmindedness and let his gaze wander to his left. The hobbit had sat himself beside him, a little too close to be polite, but not close enough that their hands touched.

Thorin fixed his gaze at him, watching the rise of his chest, as he inhaled deeply and the shape of his lips, when another smoke ring emerged from his mouth. His heart already had quickened its pace and Thorin felt a foreign warmth spreading through his veins, the longer he watched Bilbo beside him. It still confused him endlessly how he involuntarily reacted when he was with the hobbit. Ever since Thorin had first laid his eyes on the smaller one, he had somehow felt lighter and inexplicably _happy_ , but he couldn’t, for the love of his ancestors, grasp the reason for it.

The small smile gracing Bilbo’s features, while he was watching the smoke fading into the night, conjured a fond expression on Thorin’s lips. Eventually the hobbit tilted his head to gift him with a soft look, indicating with his eyes that he would accept it, if Thorin rather would have his solitude. The king cast down his eyes at that and took another pull from his pipe, letting the smoke linger, until he felt his lungs started burning and turned his head to exhale into the dark night. The white stripes faded into the crisp air like Thorin’s voice, as he quietly spoke.

“You know, sometimes I have nightmares about it. Experiencing the pain and the exhaustion again, seeing my grandfather and brother die.”

He didn’t look up though, not daring to look Bilbo in the eye, fearing to see the pity and the distant comity in them like he had so many times before, when someone was told the tragic story of Thorin Oakenshield. At some time he didn’t even care anymore, just overlooking the ones who shot him deferential, but overly pitying glances. But somehow it hurt him thinking about giving Bilbo the feeling of being distant and someone to treat with cautious respect only.

There was a tensed silence between them and a cold anger flared up in Thorin’s chest and he tightly curled his fingers over the rough surface of the rock. But instead of the cold hitting his tense hand, a sudden warmth enclosed his knuckles and Thorin finally looked up to see the hobbit’s smaller hand loosening his fingers and grabbing his palm. The king was entranced by Bilbo’s small affectionate gesture and he followed the hobbit’s every movement, when he lifted Thorin’s limp hand and brought it in front of his mouth. He wanted to ask what Bilbo was intending, but Thorin couldn’t do more than to take a sharp breath, when the hobbit gently pressed his lips against the dwarf’s calloused palm. Thorin’s fingers twitched slightly at the foreign touch, but the hobbit didn’t seem to mind. Something inside the king twitched pleasantly and he felt how the tingling sensation of Bilbo’s lips brightly ran through his veins. He didn’t know what he looked like, but his expression must resemble a flabbergasted fish, if Bilbo’s amused huff was any indication. His heart involuntarily jumped though, when he finally looked up the find the hobbit’s gaze. His eyes were shining softly, a hint of sad understanding blurring them, but their expression was so encouragingly open and friendly that it hit the deepest string inside Thorin’s heart.

“If you ever need someone to talk about them, I will be there for you.”

The loss of Bilbo’s touch, when the hobbit gently placed his hand back at the dwarf’s side, made Thorin flinch slightly, but nevertheless he still felt the light radiating from the smaller one beside him; selfishly indulging in Bilbo’s companionable presence, closing his mind and heart around the hobbit’s gentle words.

{///~~~\\\\\\}

The night Thorin finally understood had begun with a nightmare, even if it was not his own. Summer was approaching and the days grew warmer and friendlier. Nevertheless it had been a rather rough day for all of them. The most exhausting part had probably been the group of thieves that had surprised them, shortly after they had entered the forest. It hadn’t taken long though, until the company had repulsed them - probably because the group of scavengers had underestimated the dwarves’ strength and fighting skills. The Company had calmed down rather quickly afterwards and had continued their trip, but Bilbo had been exceptionally quiet and somehow distant ever since the sudden attack. Thorin’s eyes had followed their burglar with concern the whole day, but he hadn’t wanted to scare Bilbo away by approaching the subject of his odd behaviour.

Thorin had taken the first shift of night watch, allowing the other members of the company their desperately needed rest. The weariness was straining the king’s nerves too and he felt how his attention slowly shifted every now and then. His mind was keeping him up though, for his eyes glancing in the hobbit’s direction more frequently, the longer the night progressed. Something was wrong. Bilbo hadn’t been that quiet since- Actually, he had never lost his warm and vivid nature, even if he sometimes snapped and stalked off to mutter about “bloody Dwarves and their thick-headedness”. He had curled him up into his blanket though; lying close to the fire, his features tensed and distorted. Thorin sensed something disquieting was going to happen, when the hobbit suddenly stirred in his sleep and let out a small whimper.

He stood up quietly and carefully approached Bilbo. He knew what it looked like and how it felt when you’re violently captured in your own nightmares. The hobbit already shivered in distress, when Thorin arrived and the king immediately kneeled down to lay a tentative hand above Bilbo’s shoulder in order to wake him up. But the moment, the dwarf touched him, the hobbit jumped awake with a gasp, his eyes widened in utter terror. He tightly grabbed Thorin’s hand and took a few deep, but shaky breaths, before his expression contorted and he launched forward to bury his face in Thorin’s chest to sob silently.

“Orcs…you…I…I couldn’t…you were-”

The hobbit’s hoarse and the panicked whispers broke Thorin’s heart apart and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around the smaller one in front of him. The king gently started stroking soothing circles over Bilbo’s back and humming lowly against his hair to slowly stop the hobbit’s crying and calm him down. But the more affectionate he acted, the heavier Bilbo’s sobs became and his little hands tightened even more around Thorin’s coat. They were still in the middle of the camp and it would be most unfortunate if someone else would wake up to Bilbo’s crying. Thorin perfectly knew that too much attention from different sides would be too overwhelming, especially for the small hobbit.

Carefully positioned his arms anew, one securely gripping Bilbo’s waist, the other one underneath his hips to steady him, before he carefully stood up, giving the hobbit time to process what Thorin was doing. The hobbit let out a faint noise of surprise, before wrapping his legs around Thorin’s hips and gripping his coat like a lifeline; burying his face into the dwarf’s furs. It must have looked pretty ridiculous, how Thorin was carrying the hobbit like a child, taking careful steps around the camp in order to remain quiet, but he couldn’t care less this moment. Bilbo felt alarmingly light in his arms and Thorin tightened his grip protectively around the small being pressed against his chest.

Eventually he arrived at the outer edge of the camp, far enough away to speak to Bilbo freely, but close enough to be in secure range. He gently sat the hobbit on the log before him and kneeled down to look at his face. Bilbo seemed reluctant to meet Thorin’s gaze though, so the king gently placed a hand underneath the hobbit’s chin and lifted it up.

“Hey, look at me.”

Eventually Bilbo looked up to hesitantly search for Thorin gaze. His sobbing had changed into quick and watery breaths, his eyes red and the tears still silently spilling over the wet rim of his lashes. Thorin waited several seconds until Bilbo’s breaths slowed down, before he let his hand wander towards the smaller one’s cheek, gently wiping away the wet streaks gracing his cheekbones. He didn’t say anything, just caressing his features and looking into Bilbo’s watery eyes, waiting for the hobbit to make the first step.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

There was that feeling again, like he was captured in Bilbo’s eyes, the foreign warmth radiating from the smaller one where Thorin touched him, the urge to curl himself around the hobbit and kiss him until he fell asleep in his arms. He hummed in understanding for the smaller one’s broken words and Thorin brought his other hand up to cup Bilbo’s face between his palms. It felt so right to gently wipe away the remains of the hobbit’s tears, so right to lean in and softly press his lips against Bilbo’s jaw, just beneath the edge of his lips, so right to tenderly bring their foreheads together and just wait. Their breaths were mingling in the crisp night air and Thorin felt how Bilbo slowly relaxed and gently reciprocated the touch by leaning in a bit further, until their noses were almost touching.

For a short moment Thorin’s world felt so peacefully whole and finally he understood. He had long given up his hope, sure that he was destined to be a leader and king; having no right and place in his heart for tender affection and love beyond his kin.

“It’s alright, Bilbo. I am here, safe and sound. And you are with me, seeing me, hearing me, feeling me. It’s alright. Don’t be afraid.”

Thorin’s voice was thick and heavy, but Bilbo got his words and retreated, almost reluctantly as it seemed, before he grabbed the dwarf’s coat and buried himself inside it, nuzzling his cheek against Thorin’s chest. The dwarf immediately shifted his posture to protectively wrap his arms around the hobbit. His hands found themselves circling on Bilbo’s back again and Thorin started to hum an ancient lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he had a nightmare as a little dwarfling.

“Th-thank you…Thorin.”

Bilbo’s voice was just a faint whisper, indicating that he wasn’t far from falling into slumber and Thorin smiled contently, when the hobbit let out a small yawn afterwards. He continued his soothing song for a while, until he was sure the smaller one was sound asleep, before he gently smiled into Bilbo’s hair.

“I’ll make sure that you’re safe; for I’m destined to love and protect you until the end of all days, my One.”

{///~~~\\\\\\}

“Hey Uncle, look what Master Boggins showed us!”

Thorin lazily peeked over to his far too excited nephews, one eye still closed whilst facing the sky. The sun was already setting behind the mountains, bathing their surroundings into a fiery golden light. They had found a hidden clearing early this afternoon and had decided to stay there for the night for it was a very beautiful place and the whole company had shot Thorin hopeful glances. If someone had said a word about that, in the end, it had been Bilbo’s pleading smile that finally slipped through his reluctant heart, Thorin would probably have blushed faintly and brush it of in his own frown-y attitude. The moment he announced his decision though, Bilbo’s face had lit up and Fíli and Kíli had literally dragged him away from camp, excitedly shouting and blabbering about something they wanted to show him, for they had seen it when they had been still on the road.

It was a very peaceful day, Thorin had to admit and secretly he let himself relax completely for the first time in forever.

That was, until his nephews had come back shouting and demanding their uncle’s attention; Bilbo mischievously chuckling behind them, whilst looking up at Thorin. The content look and the small glint in his eyes suited the hobbit in the most beautiful way and the king couldn’t help himself but to reciprocate with a warm smile. That was until he noticed the small crown of yellow and red flowers adorning Bilbo’s head. He looked so beautiful in the way the petals where interweaved with his curls and how the rays of the dying sun softly played with them. Bilbo shot him an amused glance and Thorin felt how a blush was creeping up his chest and he quickly averted his eyes to face his demanding nephews. The mischievous grins gracing both their faces sent an alarming shiver down his spine.

Eventually he let his gaze wander and saw the two flower crowns on both their heads, a yellow one for Fíli and a white one for Kíli, though they didn’t look as intricate as Bilbo’s.  His face lit up at the thought of Bilbo patiently trying to show his nephews how to make flower crowns and both of them eagerly trying to follow his instructions and making one for each other. The two young dwarves must have seen his small smile, for they started blabbering excitedly again.

“We made one for every member of the Company!”

“Master Baggins showed us! Look at them, Uncle!”

“We have one for you too!”

Thorin stopped in his thoughts and stared blankly at his nephews, when they held out a delicate crown of gently intertwined blue and white flowers in front of his face, a far too pleased smile playing around their lips.

“No.”

He firmly looked away to expectantly stare at Bilbo, who had brought one hand in front of his mouth, probably to stifle his treacherous laughter. Thorin would _not_ wear a flower crown. Never. He might be a king without a crown, but he would not wear a circle of flowers on his head, just for the mighty amusement of his nephews and their burglar.

“I’ll go for a walk, checking the surroundings for possible dangers.”

He brusquely growled at them and stood up, grabbing his sword, before regally stalking away from the camp, trying to escape the trio’s further shenanigans.

‘---’

It didn’t take long though, until Thorin returned from his walk – barely an hour – but the sun was already gone and a warm breeze was playing with the leaves of the trees surrounding the camp. He had heard the Company already from afar; laughing and chatting and something that sounded suspiciously like Bofur’s flute.

And indeed; when he stepped over the edge of the camp, he could see his Company merrily sitting around the fire, laughing and whistling, as Bilbo danced with his youngest nephew around the bright flames, flower crowns still in place. One after another joined the hobbit’s merriment and soon Bilbo danced with almost everyone of the Company.

Thorin was still standing apart from the Company’s merry gathering, enchanted by Bilbo’s larking mood and the hidden beauty of his smiles. He could have watched him dancing and laughing endlessly, for his heart was rewarding him with pleasant warmth and the feeling of simple bliss. Thorin almost wanted to retreat back into the shadows to take another short walk around the camp, when Bilbo suddenly caught his eyes and smiled at him. The king stopped in his tracks and reciprocated the small gesture, before leaning back against the tree and proceeded watching, his arms folded in front of his chest. Bilbo approached him though and stopped just inches apart from him, before gently loosing Thorin’s right hand and softly squeezing it. There was a silent understanding between them, when the king’s blue eyes met Bilbo’s soft hazel ones and he followed the hobbit back to the fire without resistance, hands still enclosed with one another.

When they finally arrived at the circle, Kíli stood up and handed Bilbo Thorin’s flower crown. The king was already reluctant to let this _thing_ near his head, but the hobbit gently squeezed his hand instead, demanding his attention.

“I made this one for you, just saying.”

The small confession, his cast down eyes and the slight blush gracing Bilbo’s cheeks made it almost impossible for Thorin to refuse and so he returned the squeeze, smiling encouragingly, when the hobbit met his eyes. He even bowed his head slightly, so Bilbo could have better access to his hair. The gleeful snickers from his nephews were flaring up something dangerously angry inside Thorin, but the gentle touch of Bilbo’s small hands, interweaving the king’s silver and raven strands with the stems of the blue and white flowers, was pleasantly soothing and he couldn’t suppress the low hum when Bilbo accidentally brushed his beard, as he eventually withdrew his hands. The satisfied smile on his lips made Thorin wanting to kiss them until they were red and swollen, but instead of giving in, he let the hobbit lead him further into circle illuminated by the fire. Bilbo had already grabbed his other hand and brought it around his waist, positioning them for a dance.

The soft tune emerging from Bofur’s flute invaded Thorin’s mind and he tenderly smiled down at the smaller one, who made the first step and led the king with adept movements, showing him how to move on his own. Thorin was far too entranced though, the closeness nagging dangerously on his self-restraint. His attention even slipped so far that he nearly tripped over his feet once, only to be rewarded by a bright laughter from Bilbo. It didn’t take long though, until the others had joined them and were dancing with one another around the flames.

Bilbo suddenly squeezed his hand, a dark glint gracing his eyes in the firelight, when Thorin locked his gaze with him. There was something very tempting hidden in the hobbit’s look and the king couldn’t do more than to obey to Bilbo’s wordless suggestion – or at least what he hoped the hobbit was trying to tell him with his eyes.

The others didn’t seem to notice the absence of their king and burglar, but they hadn’t made it that far anyway. Bilbo had dragged him behind the tree, where Thorin had leant against earlier, when he had been watching the others from afar. The merry sounds from the Company were still reaching them, but Thorin was far too fixed on Bilbo’s hands slowly wandering up to his coat, grabbing it and pulling the king with him, until the hobbit’s back hit the trunk of the tree. His eyes were hooded though as he softly ran his fingers through Thorin’s hair and caressed his coarse beard. Bilbo gently pulled the king’s face towards his own, stopping when their lips where only inches apart.

“I must admit you look very kingly with this crown on your head, Your Majesty.”

The soft and teasing whisper sent a pleasant jolt through Thorin’s veins and he let out a small sigh. The hobbit seemed to take this as an invitation, because before the king even had the chance to blink, he felt Bilbo’s pliant lips against his own, his arms wrapped around Thorin’s neck. The king’s body flared up like a wildfire and he felt himself reciprocating the kiss, before pressing himself flush against the smaller one in front of him. The small moan that escaped Bilbo’s mouth, when Thorin let his hands wander beneath the layers of the hobbit’s shirt, fuelled the bright fire inside him even more and he stormily deepened their kiss, pleadingly nipping at Bilbo’s bottom lip.

When the hobbit eventually opened his mouth for Thorin, he couldn’t suppress the growl emerging from his lungs, making Bilbo beautifully whimper and squirm against his lips. They had to take a breath though and Thorin reluctantly retreated, as he felt his lungs slowly burning up from deprivation.

Resting their foreheads together for a breathless moment, the king could feel the hobbit hands loosing up his belt, letting his hands wander underneath the surface of Thorin’s many layers, desperately searching for the dwarf’s skin. The king let out a small huff, before guiding Bilbo’s curious fingers around the fastenings of his clothes, helping the smaller one to reach his desired destination. The tingling sensation that emerged from the hobbit’s teasing hands on his heated skin made the dwarf gasping and surging forward to claim Bilbo’s lips again, pressing himself flush against the hobbit, his palms possessively stroking over soft, warm skin. And for this short moment of pure bliss the world around them seemed forgotten. The warm breeze of the summer’s night was singing a quiet love song between the leaves, but Bilbo was finally his and his alone and it was the only thing that mattered.

{///~~~\\\\\\}

To say that Thorin had been exceptionally twitchy and overly aware of the hobbit’s presence ever since the night they had made out behind the tree in the early hours of the night would be a terrible understatement. Bilbo involuntarily claimed the king’s attention every waking moment and even in the silence of the night, the thought of the hobbit was keeping his mind awake. So it wasn’t very surprising that, when Thorin dismissed everyone to their respective duties, his eyes would wander over the campsite, only to find one particular member of the Company missing.

“If you’re looking for Bilbo, he’s probably off in the woods, that way, searching firewood for Bombur.”

Thorin blinked in surprise at the dwarf beside him - which happened to be Bofur – who was almost knowingly smiling at him. The king felt caught somehow, because even Bofur seemed to notice their leader’s twitchy behaviour when the hobbit wasn’t around. Trying to force down the blush creeping up his cheeks, Thorin fixed his eyes on Bofur’s pointing finger and gave him an affirmative nod, before he turned around to follow the path Bilbo had taken out of camp. And if he had heard the toymaker’s choked laughter as he watched the king leaving all of a sudden, Thorin would’ve purposefully straightened his shoulders just a little, because there was absolutely nothing wrong about their leader making sure everything was in order by checking up on the members of his Company.

Bilbo wasn’t that far away though and was also definitely _not_ searching for firewood. Instead Thorin found him on a small clearing, sitting on a log and lowly humming some melody whilst facing the sun. The king didn’t fail to notice though, how the rays of light swirled around Bilbo’s curls and danced with the shadows of the rustling leaves over the hobbit’s hair. He seemed content and completely apart from his surroundings, just enjoying the small moment of peace, if the gentle smile and his lightly closed eyes were any indication.

With the camp out of earshot and the hobbit so completely out of reality, it would be so exhaustingly easy for Thorin just to sneak up on him and give him a real scare, just to see Bilbo glaring and blushing and muttering at him. Thorin was already quietly approaching the hobbit from behind, but instead of tackling him or grabbing his sides, the king snuck his hands around Bilbo’s waist and nuzzled his face into the hobbit’s sun warmed curls. The hobbit flinched at the sudden touch, but Thorin felt how he was slowly relaxing, when he became aware exactly who had taken advantage of his peaceful absentmindedness.

The king inhaled deeply and the distinctive earthy scent of the hobbit mingled with the warmth of the sun filled his lungs. Thorin felt himself lowering his head to place a gentle kiss at the base of Bilbo’s neck, before turning the smaller one around and peppering his face with breathy kisses, worshipping every part of the hobbit’s beautiful features.

The smooth line of his jaw. The soft curve of his cheekbones. The rim of his golden lashes. The tip of his upturned nose. The bow of his ever so pliant lips.

It was a moment of pure bliss, when Thorin retreated and looked up into those dilated hazel eyes and immediately drowned in their coloured depths, just like this first night back on the doorstep of Bag End. There was a silent understanding between them, when Bilbo gently caressed the king’s beard and stood up from the log he was still sitting on, just to drag Thorin down with him, until both lay on the soft mossy ground. Their fingers where intertwined and the king felt a pleasant shiver running up his spine, as Bilbo gently drew circles with his thumb on the back of Thorin’s hand.

He didn’t know how exactly it happened – probably somewhere between Bilbo tilting his head and Thorin leaning in to close the distance - but all of a sudden his lips were locked with the smaller one’s again and soon both of them seemed to crave for more than just kisses. More of touching, more hands and lips on exposed skin, more contact, just diminishing the distance ever so impossibly fast-

“Bilbo? Are you around somewhere?”

The moment was broken, when Bofur’s voice sounded through the clearing like a thunder echoing off the mountain side. Bilbo let out a surprised gasp, but Thorin placed a tentative hand over his lips, indicating to remain quiet, before pulling them up from the ground. He nodded curtly at the hobbit, hoped he would understand his urge, but when he made a move to leave, he felt Bilbo’s grip tighten around his hand instead of letting go. So Thorin turned around, only to meet those beautifully wide eyes again he had fallen for what seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Thorin-“

Bilbo’s tentative plea tugged almost painfully at Thorin’s heartstrings, but the king just gave him a firm kiss squarely over his lips and a gentle squeeze, before smiling down at the smaller one still grabbing his hand.

“Later."

With a last lingering touch of lips and his eyes speaking a silent promise, Thorin let go of the hobbit’s hands, quietly disappearing behind the trees surrounding their clearing.

{///~~~\\\\\\}

“No.”

Thorin was rolling his eyes exasperatedly, when Bilbo huffed indignantly and folded his arms in front of his chest, his chin stubbornly raised, sending Thorin an angry glare.

They finally had found a little stream earlier that day and decided to stop over and take a well-needed bath. The others had already retreated somewhere further down the stream, but Thorin had remained with Bilbo at a less deep spot of the river, for the hobbit couldn’t swim on his own and he didn’t want Bilbo to drown, just because he hadn’t paid enough attention.

The hobbit was already standing hip-deep in the water, but he insisted that it was “bloody damn freezing” and he wouldn’t make one single step further into the stream. It was a rather warm day, but the longer Bilbo stood there, naked and shivering, the likelier he would catch a cold. Thorin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before playfully glaring back at Bilbo.

“I suggest you step in further right now, _Master Baggins_ , or I’ll have to make you.”

The hobbit’s indignant glare changed and Thorin could see his features soften into a more mischievous expression, for his eyes gleamed with an unknown fire and his lips quirked up ever so enticing. Bilbo would play his little game, yes, but the fierce little hobbit wouldn’t submit to Thorin’s rules, nor did he plan to obey to his will.

Instead of Bilbo taking a step towards the king, he dared to make a step _backwards_ until the low dip of his hipbones was dangerously visible and hooded his eyes ever so seductively, before responding in an overly innocent manner.

“Oh, will you, _Master Oakenshield_?”

The hidden challenge kept in Bilbo’s words elicited a low hum from Thorin’s chest. If their burglar wanted to play, the king would be eager to obey. Maybe their seclusion from the rest of the Company had more benefits to offer than just the chance for Bilbo to bathe in less dangerous waters. The hobbit seemed to think of these opportunities as well, for he almost languidly stretched himself in the light of the afternoon sun, giving Thorin more access to the invitingly pronounced curve leading down to the depths of his groin hidden under secure waters.

“Oh, I will. And _you_ , my dearest _Burglar_ , will be soaking wet and _begging_ me to release you.”

Bilbo’s cheeks flushed ever so beautifully at Thorin’s low and husky response and the hobbit let out a small moan. The king felt a familiar fire lighting up his body and he released a warning growl from his lungs, showing Bilbo that _now_ would be his last chance to obey or otherwise he had to take the consequences of objecting to their leader’s orders. But instead of finally stepping further into the stream, Bilbo just huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest and even dared to shot a saucy grin at Thorin.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Bilbo had _definitely_ overstepped the edge and without further thought, the king launched forward the moment, the words left the hobbit’s mouth. With a swift move he grabbed Bilbo’s waist and hauled him up over his shoulder, before dragging him deeper into the stream, minding not to slip. The hobbit even had the decency to let out a surprised squeak, when Thorin had lifted him up and muttered something about him being a “stubborn and insufferable git”.

The king just smiled satisfied to himself and blissfully ignored Bilbo’s protests, until he felt like they were deep enough into the stream for both of them not to drown but also not to hit the bottom too hard, in order for what Thorin wanted to do next. Even if it spoiled the initial surprise a bit, he didn’t want Bilbo to choke, so he growled out a small warning over his shoulder.

“Hold your breath.”

“Thorin-, what?”

“Just do as I say.”

“But-, Thorin!”

He made sure he had a secure grip around Bilbo’s waist and without further ado the king launched forward and dipped underwater. There was a moment of silent surprise and Thorin felt how the hobbit was flinching and stirring for a short moment, when he disappeared beneath the surface. It didn’t take long though, until he let himself relax in Thorin’s arms, showing his trust and willingness for whatever the king intended to do.

Opening his eyes in the clear liquid surrounding them he could see Bilbo’s searching for his and he caught a glimpse of the small smile playing around the hobbit’s lips, when Thorin finally found his gaze. The king immediately tightened his arms around Bilbo and brought their lips together in a watery, but firm kiss. The hobbit responded by wrapping his arms around Thorin’s neck and pressing himself tighter against his chest. Their kiss grew sloppy and desperate far too quickly and the sudden need for air forced them to resurface.

There was a moment of silence, only disturbed by both their heavy breathing and the sounds of the stream quietly swirling around them. It took a moment though, before Thorin realized that Bilbo was still pressed against his chest, all soft and warm and wet and breathless. The hobbit’s nimble hands had found their way into Thorin’s hair and tugged gently to regain the king’s attention.

Thorin’s solid sense must have gone lost somewhere underwater, because when he lifted his face, the only thing he could think was, how temptingly beautiful Bilbo was looking, with his curls wetly plastered against his forehead, his cheekbones graced with a faint blush and the hint of need colouring his hazel eyes.

“Thorin-“

As if Bilbo’s pliant and soft and very naked body wasn’t enough to drive Thorin mad with unadulterated need, the desperate sigh leaving Bilbo’s lips did it. With a low moan he surged forward and closed the mingling distance between their lips. It wasn’t much of a kiss, but more of a claim, when the king harshly bit down on the hobbit’s lower lip and rewarded a pleased moan from the smaller one.

Meanwhile his hands had wandered around Bilbo’s waist and grabbed him possessively. All of Thorin’s body screamed “mine” everywhere he touched the hobbit’s soft and heated skin, when he let his hands wander over the small of his back and down his thighs, in order to lift him up again. His firm intention elicited an eager moan from Bilbo’s chest and he soon found the hobbit nibbling at his lips and his hot breath mingling with his own, when he huskily whispered against him.

“This is highly inappropriate.”

Thorin let out a low chuckle and withdrew his lips, only to receive a soft whimper and Bilbo’s hands tugging at some loose and wet strands at the back of his neck. But as unexpected as the king had retreated, the sudden his lips where back on the hobbit’s body, pressing soft and lingering kisses down Bilbo’s neck, tracing the line of his collarbone with his tongue, teasing the pliant skin with his teeth.

The smaller one in his arms slowly became a gasping and panting mess, the evidence of his arousal treacherously pressing against the inside of Thorin’s thighs. The king released a low hum, the vibration of his deep voice eliciting an involuntary shiver from Bilbo. With a smug grin gracing his features he closed his lips over the hobbit’s and teasingly whispered against them.

“Would you care?”

With a deliberate shift of his hips, Bilbo showed him exactly how _little_ he cared about decency right now. Thorin lifted him up once more and possessively squeezed the hobbit’s backside, right before slowly pressing his own arousal against Bilbo’s, eliciting a moaning laugh from the smaller one and a challenging whisper ghosting over his damp and swollen lips.

“Never."

{///~~~\\\\\\}

The moment Thorin finally found his words happened to be one chilly night in late summer. It had been a rather exhausting day for all of them and autumn was approaching slowly – means night began hovering over them sooner – so they had set up camp quite early that day. Most of the company had been sound asleep even before the moon reached its peak. Thorin was dead tired himself, with his limbs aching tremendously and his body crying out for the salvation of sleep.

It was his restless mind that kept him awake, his flowing thoughts that ran like a wild river through his head, when he softly gazed at the sleeping hobbit beside him. Bilbo just looked so peaceful and happy when he slept, like this first night in Bag End. Like he was walking in the clouds, like a ray of sunshine shyly peeking through the leaves, with his honey curls and lashes shining golden in the light of the dying fire. Bilbo was the most beautiful thing Thorin had ever laid eyes on and it made his heart flutter wildly in his chest, when the small hobbit quietly exhaled his name in his sleep and unconsciously nestled up closer to the dwarf.

Thorin carefully drew closer and extended his hands to gently intertwine his fingers with Bilbo’s. A fond smile formed on his lips, when the hobbit sighed happily and closed the gap between their palms. Thorin’s heart pounded loudly inside his chest and he felt his body lighten up with love. He wanted to laugh; he wanted to bathe the hobbit in kisses, telling him firmly how much he was loved. But when Thorin tried to find his voice, it came out just above a tentative whisper.

“Bilbo?”

The hobbit stirred a bit, but his eyes remained close, as he answered sleepily. Their hands were still joined together and Thorin could see the small smile on Bilbo’s lips, when he proceeded to gently stroke his fingers with the tip of his thumb.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

There was a short moment of silence between them, the only sounds being the soothing calm of their breaths and the soft crackle of the fire. Thorin slowly grew anxious the longer Bilbo remained still, but eventually the hobbit snuggled himself against the dwarf’s chest, tilting his head so their lips were just inches apart. When he opened his eyes though, Thorin couldn’t suppress the stunned gasp that had threatened to leave his lips. Bilbo’s eyes were like an open door to his heart, so soft and so filled with deep affection, searching for Thorin’s. He felt how the hobbit’s soft lips covered his in an almost chaste manner, softly murmuring against them.

“I love you too.”

Thorin’s chest felt like a bonfire, illuminating every fibre of his body, when he leaned in to deepen their kiss, wrapping his arms around Bilbo tightly, almost possessively. He was sure, Bilbo was perfectly awake now, but their kiss reached a languid sloppiness, leaving both them both breathless and needy for the other’s touch. Thorin could feel how Bilbo’s smaller hands tightened around his coat and he gave the hobbit a long, tender kiss, before laying his chin above Bilbo’s head, burying his nose into his soft curls. And if someone had seen them that night, he could tell that Thorin softly whispered sweet nothings against the hobbit’s hair until he fell asleep and drifted into slumber himself with a smile on his lips, whilst tenderly stroking his lover’s back.

{///~~~\\\\\\}

**Author's Note:**

> Well, English isn't my native tongue, nor am I a professional author, but anyway, kudos, comments, constructive critisism, crying, screaming, laughing, kicking me off a cliff or whatever tickles your fancy are very appreciated! *laughs* By the way, the rating was for the foreplay-ish thing in the stream. Just to be on the safe side. *evil smirk*
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own "The Hobbit", nor any of the characters and won't make any profit out of this fanfiction.


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